In many ways. I've been tossing ideas around for months, now (thank you and sorry to everyone who has had to listen to me ramble nonsensically for months), and I've finally narrowed down what kind of story I want to tell. So in terms of its actual development, this story has very much been experimental from the very beginning, but that's not all.

No, the content itself is experimental. I decided to take an approach with the Reverse Falls universe that I haven't seen attempted as much. Instead of a straight-up combination of role reversals, specific events happen in this timeline to cause those reversals. Not all of them are role switches between characters, however; many of these "reversals" simply feature the characters in different roles and occupations in society, as you are about to see soon, and some are even more subtle, such as the way a set of people interact due to someone else's presence (or absence). It should be noted that the disappearance of the mystery character won't happen for at least a few chapters. You'll know when it happens, trust me.

Oh, and one last thing - please theorize about what's going on in your reviews! It'll make the story very fun (and more of an adventure) for both of us.

"We've got a client before tonight's show."

The voice was soft and one that Dipper knew all too well. His sister appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame and crossing her arms. She was wearing her favorite dress – pink with flowing sleeves and layers of ruffles below the waist – and stared as her feet as she spoke; he, likewise, continued to focus on the book he was reading.

"Did you do any research on them?"

"No. I didn't have to. Not really, anyway."

Normally when they had a client, they'd at least have to do a little bit of digging. Names, birthdays, relationships. Mostly basic stuff across the board, but sometimes certain other items of interest would pop up, too. Secrets, scandals, anything you could name. It was work that neither of them particularly enjoyed. He raised an eyebrow in suspicion and glanced up.

"Why not?"

"Because he's pretty important to the rest of the town, that's why," Mabel said, dragging the first word out for dramatic effect.

"He? Not one of the officers or the mayor, right? Well, I could see one of the officers coming, they're not the smartest people in the world...but it probably wouldn't be the mayor."

"Nope. It's the doctor."

Dipper's eyes widened.

"Valentino?"

"Mm-hmm. I have a bad feeling about this. Not of him, but just...in general." She bit her lip and slid her headband off, poking at the powdery blue lace that covered it. Glued to the side was a teal gem placed in a metal setting. Usually, she only wore it for shows or public appearances, but last night she had forgot to leave it in her dressing room.

"When do we not have a bad feeling about anything around here?" he asked, placing the book on his desk. "And besides, when did we ever let that stop us?"

The teen silently ran his fingers along the wood, not particularly focusing on any one thing. His great uncle had said that this desk was one of the few remaining pieces of furniture in the mansion when he moved to Gravity Falls back in the nineties. Rather than sell and replace it, he'd simply left it; the thing added character, he figured. Of course, he didn't get much use out of it in the end: it stayed in one of the upper rooms, unused, until Dipper and Mabel moved in three years ago.

Dipper, of course, took to it right away. He'd trace the cracks along it, much like how he was doing now, and wonder who had used it and for what purposes. Perhaps it had once belonged to a schoolteacher or scientist and had made its way here, only to be ignored and forgotten.

It was sad, in a way.

He gripped the worn handle of one of the drawers and tugged. The tray slid out with an ear-splitting creak. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mabel flinch for a moment before promptly returning to their conversation.

"True..." she trailed, not sure of how to continue the conversation. "This is different, though! Whenever we go into the forest, we have the journal to protect us, plus our brains on top of that! Or sometimes just yours, since you have a habit of going without me."

"That's because unlike someone, I'd rather investigate the town than date every single person in it." Dipper's words, though said with emphasis, were without malice. Even so, he frowned. "You know that we're running out of time."

"I know." Mabel sighed and bit her lip, not wanting to argue with him and wary of the creeping feeling that had followed her around all day. "Still, I just feel off. Like something's about to change. Do you ever feel like that?"

"Mabel, we've been attached to each other since we came out of the womb. I think we both know the answer to that one."

"All day, every day?" she asked, letting a breathy laugh escape before returning to her reserved expression. "I'm probably just stressed."

"Yeah, we've been performing a lot lately."

"More like every other day for the last couple of years!"

"Geez, Mabel, you know that it's not every other day. You know, unlike my existential crises. I could see how it would feel that way, though."

"See, even you agree!" she exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. "So we should take a break sometime. Maybe? Possibly? We can ask Grunkle Stan about it."

"Maybe. I don't think he'd let us take off, though. You know, because money and all that," he said while waving a hand in the air. "But for now, we have to focus. Who's taking Valentino, me?"

She shook her head. "No, me."

"Did he request you?"

Ever since they had begun their work, Dipper couldn't help but feel nervous when an older man requested Mabel. It wasn't that she was defenseless – she could fight off someone just fine, and he always made sure of it – it was that he knew it was often predatory and he never wanted to see her in that situation. Of course, he understood that most were attracted to her for entirely different reasons. She had a happiness that seemed to permeate the air around her even on the rainiest days of the year, and that drew people to her.

He was jealous, in a way. Being all-the-more critical and studious of the world around him had its faults.

"No-" she opened her mouth to say before stumbling backwards, slamming into the edge of the door frame. She gasped as the edge dug into her back and slid to the floor. Dipper flew from his chair, rushing over to help her. The floorboards creaked as he moved, each step seeming to take a century even though the two were only a handful of feet apart. By the time he made it over, his sister had opened her eyes again, seeming dazed. He joined her on the floor, waving his hand in front of her eyes.

"Are you okay? Come on, Mabel, say something!" he said, the words spilling out of his mouth as he tried to break her out of her trance.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, trying to steady her breathing. "Just get me into that chair."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Dipper helped her up, an arm wrapped around her for support as he walked her over to the seat he'd just occupied. Trying to ease his anxiety, he tried to go back to a normal topic of conversation.

"I think you were right, we do need a break..."

"No, no, it's not that. My head just hurts a little, that's all." She slid into the chair with ease, her limbs practically melting into the furniture.

"I'll get you some water and aspirin."

With that, he hurried out of the room. Mabel blinked, trying to make the world come back into focus. The pain quickly dissipated, having gone as quickly as it came, and she focused on steadying her breaths, trying to keep her eyes open.

Her brother soon arrived with two glasses: one filled with three quarters of the way with water and the other with ice cubes. Setting them both on the table, he reminded her of how ice cold water bothered her stomach, but he'd brought the ice just in case, anyway, and asked if she wanted any. Just throw a couple in there so that it's cool, she mentioned, hoping the decrease in temperature would help wake her up. Dipper dragged another chair over and sat next to her, staring at her with concern as she took careful sips from the glass, stopping only to take the small pink pill he handed to her. By the time she finished it, the other glass, too, had developed a small pool of water.

"As I was saying before...no, he didn't request me, but I'll handle him all the same."

"You sure that's a good idea after this?"

"I'll be fine. I can't let you drag information out of everyone, right?"

"You can't do that if you're sick. I don't care if I do an extra reading or two. Besides, we've sifted through most of the town already and haven't found much to go on, other than some cheating scandals, a couple of instances of blackmail...so it's not like this would take much effort."

"No, don't cover for me," Mabel insisted, glancing at the book Dipper had left on the table. She was surprised to find his nose buried in something other than the journal they'd found a while back; she'd have to ask about what he was reading later. "What time is he supposed to be here?"

"In a couple of hours, around one. Then we have to run through a couple of things before the show tonight."

"No downtime, huh?"

"No."

Mabel groaned. Today was going to be a long day.

By the time she fully recovered, she had very little time to spare. Mabel rushed down the steps, feet pounding against the marble as she hurried to the tent. She still had some things to clean up before getting started, and her earlier dizziness had set her back. If she didn't hurry, the reading wouldn't start on time, which would then cut into their rehearsal later, and then they'd have to deal with a grumpy guardian.

The tent was located at the base of the hill where their manor stood. Its location was effective; too close, and they would risk having attendees wandering onto their grounds, but over there they could surround the area without too much extra help. Someone always stood outside with a watchful eye, making sure nobody disturbed the equipment under the cloth.

Mabel stopped in front of the entrance to the blue-tinged palace, staring at the monstrosity which towered over her. Patterns of golden braids (that she had personally picked out) were embroidered along the seams and the structure stood steady in spite of its impermanence. To the right was located one of their guards, though he also doubled as a chauffeur, a manager, a salesman, or...pretty much whatever role needed to be filled.

"Hey," she greeted, giving a little wave of her hand. "Sorry, no time to talk, in a rush."

"I was wondering where you were! You'd better hurry, the doc called and asked if he could come ten minutes early."

"What?" she said incredulously. "And what did you say?"

"Told him that he could show up, but you wouldn't see him any sooner!" he laughed, cupping a hand to his mouth so as not to be too loud.

"You think of everything, Soos." A smile formed on her face. The man wasn't exactly the most intelligent individual, but he could get things done when he needed to. He was a wonderful person to speak with, always happy and somewhat unaware of what went on around him. To the twins, he was a ray of sunshine in their otherwise busy and stressful lives, despite how often Dipper complained about him getting in the way. Still, without him she knew that their whole operation – or at least their mental health – would have collapsed by that point.

Pulling the cloth to the right, Soos stepped to the side and let her in. Instantly, she was greeted by the sweltering humidity characteristic of summers in Gravity Falls, worsened by being trapped in the tent, and ran to switch on the nearest air conditioner. Its hum rose above that of the tent's generators. Grimacing as the sounds collided, she tried her best to tune them out.

Past the first entrance was a hallway - if one could call it that - which stretched out in three directions. Straight ahead was another fabric door which led to the main stage where she and her brother held their shows. To the left was a dead end where the ticket counter was stored. While they did sell tickets online, they required each audience member to come and pick them up on the night of the performance. It made it easier to tell who was actually present: simply make a note of who wasn't there, and they could just pick one name out from the remaining members. Of course, this wasn't totally foolproof. Occasionally attendees in the same party would have someone else switch out – but they had ways around that.

The final section, which Mabel headed down, stretched to the right and led to the reading room. There, either she or Dipper would "read" a client, possibly trying to predict their future or unearth something about them. These sessions were private, either offered for free to a guest that had been to a previous show as a special perk, or scheduled of a client's own desire for a premium price. Combined with the income from their thrice-weekly shows, the Telepathy Twins brought in a hefty sum of money every month, possibly even more than their guardian had made in a lifetime.

Across the room spread a makeshift wooden floor, which she promptly tripped over upon entering. Wincing as a dull pain spread across her knee, she picked herself up, muttering about how the platform was a lawsuit waiting to happen and that they needed to fix it soon. She'd have to tell Soos after she was finished with her session.

In the center lay a teal rug covered in astrological symbols. On top of it sat a round table fashioned out of rosewood with two matching chairs; the twins' chair always sat on the Virgo symbol. Carved into the circumference of the table were Roman numerals counting up to twelve. A glass cover topped the surface. At that moment, it held nothing; a solution that Mabel would have to remedy quickly.

Hurrying to a chest set in the corner of the room, she went over the things she would need: cards, candles, cloth, powder, outfit. Well, that last one would have to wait a couple more minutes. Juggling the items as best she could, she returned to the table and began setting them up.

The green candles always stayed to the left. She would light these just before Mr. Valentino arrived. When asked what they stood for, she typically said something generic, like "wealth" or "prosperity." If she were feeling extra creative, then she might tell the client that they counteracted something, like envy or anger.

The cloth she would spread her tarot cards on was the next item to be set. Common sense had always told her not to put the candles on it, and so she spread the cloth just to the right of the candles, leaving part of the surface exposed. This item was one of the only in the room that was hers alone; the cloth was a deep purple specked with hints of glitter and of course, the pentagram that would convince others of their legitimacy. Using it made her feel calmer, somehow, and more in control should things go awry.

Her jar of powder was placed opposite the candles to be used to "cleanse" the air of any bad energies, proven or otherwise. It did absolutely nothing.

She went through a set of finger stretches next in preparation for her divination. Placing pressure on the fingers of one hand using her palm, she pressed, then did the same for the other hand before giving the cards a tentative shuffle. Despite their length, they flowed nicely, sliding between each other with ease. After a couple of rounds of this, a confident smirk spread across her face, and she headed into the dressing area to get changed.

Their show outfits almost never left this place, the only exception being for laundry. While they didn't wear the flashier ones for private sessions, the clothes were still a step above what they would normally walk around in. The twins had separate spaces curtained off for them which each had decorated to their preferred degree. Dipper had never done much for his side: nothing more than some basic stage makeup (which he had never stopped complaining about), a few spare props, a rack with his costumes, and a few books strewn on a table, most untouched for quite some time.

Mabel's section, on the other hand, had colorful lights strung across. She'd done all of the hanging on her own; her great uncle offered to help, but she had refused, stating that she'd always been the kind of person to see her projects through to the end, even if it were something as simple as hanging lights. At the center was the softest rug she'd ever stepped on. During intermissions, she would often take her shoes off and just walk across, letting the pink fibers gather between her toes, a ritual of sorts.

Almost none of the furniture matched, much to her liking. Though she had a knack for finding complementary colors when need be, she preferred to keep her private space filled with her favorite things. In that sense, the way she kept her dressing area was no different from how Dipper kept his room. Well, okay, maybe it was a little more organized than that.

Her costumes were kept in a small wardrobe in the corner. Some time ago, they had color-coordinated their outfits to match with the teal amulets they wore, or at least kept on them, at all times. Teal, powder blue, black, some white; those were all the colors that their closets held. At the beginning, Mabel had mostly worn flouncy dresses designed by her, cacophonous designs with a million frills and sparkles that made people turn their heads. Most found it endearing to see a small girl in an eccentric dress bounce around the stage, but as their routines became more and more sophisticated she'd been forced to abandon them in favor of shorter skirts, dresses, pants - things that still made people look at her, but were easier to move around in.

When she woke up, she just knew that it would be a skirt kind of day, though she'd opted for her more comfortable dress. For her performance, though, her black ruffled skirt that swished softly as she paraded across the stage would be excellent. Combined with her blue short-sleeved jacket and black undershirt, she would look coiffed, yet personable during her reading, and mature, yet sophisticated under the lights that evening. It was the perfect outfit when she was in a rush. All she needed to do was grab the finishing touches – her ankle-high black boots and ribbon, the latter of which she tied neatly around her neck. Popping her headband back on, she walked over to her vanity mirror and glanced in, adjusting the accessory until it was in a satisfactory position.

Glancing at the clock, she sighed. Three minutes to spare. At least she didn't have to fix her makeup.

"Mr. Valentino?" she inquired. Really, it was more a gesture of confirmation than anything else; the only other person standing in a hallway was an older gentleman in his mid-fifties, one that she had met several times before. Like her brother, she was more than a bit surprised that he of all people would be at the tent – even in a town like Gravity Falls where the general population wasn't always the brightest, those of the more...science-based professions typically veered away from their establishment. Making it even more awkward was the fact that she and Dipper had been in his very office, treated by him.

Running a hand nervously through his gray-streaked hair, he acknowledged her with a nod. She watched as his eyes darted around, trying to make as little contact with hers as possible. Waving her hand, she led the way back to the reading room. He trailed behind her, his leather shoes padding softly against the dirt. Lifting the curtain out of the way, she pointed to the set of chairs in the middle of the room.

Watching her clients the first time they entered the room was something she never ceased to find fascinating. Some stared up at the ceiling, wondering how a tent could be so tall. Some simply sat down, waiting for their thirty minutes, give or take, of entertainment. Still, others veered off-track before sitting down, finding a moment to glance at the shelves of occult and new-age paraphernalia that she had carefully chosen to decorate the room. Most were enchanted by the set of stone runes they kept encased in glass, the sliced-in-half crystals sitting on a desk nearby, or the shelves upon shelves of books that surrounded the perimeter. None of them had ever been opened.

The thing that caught his attention wasn't the crystals or the books on spells and healing. No, instead he examined a vase of flowers sitting next to a set of runes. Color-coordinated to match the room, it consisted of a mixture of white lilies and forget-me-nots, the latter having been harvested from the surrounding forest. When Mabel put it together, she'd been very particular about the latter detail, telling Dipper that it simply felt right for her to do so. After all, if they would enchant their audience, wouldn't it make sense to gather flowers from an enchanted forest?

When the doctor was finished, he trudged over to the chair, dragging his feet across the rug. Mabel let a scowl appear for a second – she'd have to wash that later – before transforming back into her happier, polite self. Like most of their guests, he probably had something on his mind and she tried not to think badly of his actions done in frustration or worse, fear. She took the seat next to him and waited for the moment when he would make eye contact with her.

Doctor Greg Valentino was a simple man, probably to compensate for the stress his job brought on. His clothes were always immaculate, usually consisting of some sort of sweater vest and tailored shirt with slacks. Not standoffish, but still impeccable and manicured enough to be professional.

Usually in his practice, he greeted patients with a smile, but not here. Stress lines and wrinkles were evident in his face, far more than even a man his age should have had. The solemn look in his eyes refused to dissipate, even when he finally looked up to return Mabel's glance with a smile, a false sense of happiness, which she politely returned.

Clearing her throat, she reached for her jar of powder, beginning their conversation.

"Would it be less awkward if I referred to you as Dr. Valentino, like I always have?"

"I'd appreciate that."

"All right, Dr. Valentino it is, then." She then proceeded to go through her rehearsed disclaimer. "I just want to remind you that our session is confidential. Nothing you say will leave this room, unless I have reason to suspect that you'll be hurting yourself or others. I know that makes me sound like a therapist, but it's a disclaimer that I have to mention."

That bit always put people on edge, leading to a certain question that she predicted would pop up in a few seconds.

"Have you ever…?"

"Had clients like that? A couple of times, but things turned out okay in the end. That's why we mention the warning – most psychics don't do that. We want everyone to feel safe, but unfortunately that means that we need to act if someone is in immediate danger."

He twisted one of the buttons on his sleeve as she continued.

"So you scheduled a session for a tarot reading. What I'm going to do now," she said, dipping her fingers into the pot of powder she held, "is purify the air of evil spirits and bad energy. Tarot isn't something that is inherently bad, but sometimes impure beings in this world like to mess with the good that tarot tries to be." Her throat growing dry as she nearly dragged on too long with her words, she slid her deck over and sprinkled the powder on top of them once, twice, three times, then took a larger handful and carefully spread it around the table.

"I also want to remind you that nothing that is interpreted from the tarot deck is set in stone. It's kind of cheesy to say, but you can still choose your own destiny. Now, I want you to shuffle them. This way, they'll become acquainted with your energy and provide a more accurate reading. Okay?"

"Okay."

The doctor narrowed his eyes but did as he was told. Probably trying to expose us or something, Mabel thought. He wouldn't be wrong, but I'd rather him not run us out of business. Glancing at the entrance, she hoped that Dipper was outside like he usually was if things went awry. As if on cue, a hand giving her a thumbs up slid out, telling her that she was safe. Exhaling, she let herself relax.

It only took a moment for him to finish shuffling the cards, struggling to separate them with his fingers. Most had the same issue – it was difficult for the average person, accustomed to a standard deck, to get a good shuffle of them due to their abnormal length. Really, it was the participation itself that mattered the most. It made the whole act more believable. If their guest had more control over what went on, they'd be more willing to take their predictions to heart, to volunteer more information that she and her brother could take note of. Gingerly, he placed the deck back at the center of the table and surprisingly raised no questions.

Onto the next step, then.

"All right, now I'm going to draw three cards. These represent your past, present, and future in the context of love, since that was your request. I already know that you want to see them, but before we start flipping them, I'll ask you – are you ready?" Her voiced pitched up in tone with the last statement, encouraging the man to further lose himself in the process.

He smirked, seeing through the trick but willing to play along all the same, and nodded. Hopefully she'd be able to find a way to get him more involved. No, not be able, would find a way. Taking a deep breath, she prayed – to what, she didn't know – that he would be sucked in.

"Flip over whichever card you feel like doing first, and I'll read it. I can't do it myself," she added, trying to take away from the fact that she didn't know which card he wanted to see, "because the deck's energy would be affected by my own, and it wouldn't be accurate." A common lie, but one that never raised eyebrows.

Nodding, he proceeded to turn the middle card over, revealing one of the Major Arcana: The Moon. Mabel smiled. It was time for the real magic to begin. Drawing on the conclusion she had rehearsed years back, she began to talk about the card's meaning. Her words immediately became more formal, as if she were reading from an ancient tome.

"All right, so you've revealed The Moon card. In the context of love, it means that you're going through a highly stressful, probably emotional period in your relationship," she tossed out. The words were vague enough to apply to anyone, though she had spun the last bit to apply more to his situation. The fact that he was married (and anyone who had ever met him knew that) meant that she didn't have to put on the act of dancing around her words, describing theoretical or possible relationships, breakups or pairings, the even vaguer pointedness that she was already trying to pass off as innate ability.

She seemed to have made her mark. The doctor's eyes widened in surprise for a moment as a result of her mysticism, barely processing what she had just announced before blurting words of his own. They were not forced. Her brother, even with the stone he had, could not make someone say what was on their mind, only perhaps move their jaw in silence or cause the individual to stand and clap at one of their shows.

"Things aren't the best between my wife and I at the moment," he admitted. "I...think she's been keeping a secret from me, though I don't know what."

He was reluctant to give her more information, but accepted her conclusions. As he reached out to flip the "past" card, Mabel wondered if her brother was still on the other side, taking note of what the doctor said. She never quite understood how he was able to do it; she could barely hear a thing beyond the curtain, though thankfully Dipper's memory was far better than hers, and he was able to record most of the details of their conversations with ease. At one point, she had looked into hiding a microphone somewhere in the room, but her brother refused, saying it would be too risky if a particularly adventurous client decided to investigate the room.

No, this way was more authentic.

Even still, that tidbit that he'd uttered was enough for her to work off of. She watched as he flipped the leftmost card, revealing the Four of Cups, position reversed. She got to work, rapidly throwing words out at the man seated across from her.

"Secrets, lies, haunts, something from your past is haunting you. I'm getting the feeling that perhaps it's from your shared past with your wife. Whatever that is, it's affecting your relationship now, and you need to move on from it."

All couples had secrets. It was something that could apply to anyone.

The man froze.

"There's something, yes."

Mabel leaned forward, becoming absorbed in his soon-to-be-confession, ready to draw out the rest and try to mentally catalogue as much of the anecdote as she could. Think. What could have happened in the past between them that would affect them now? They always seem close when I go to the clinic. They have a son who they clearly love dearly. The whole family works together – their son handles the desk, while Mrs. Valentino preps the examination rooms. So then, something related to medicine, perhaps?

"I'm sensing that it's work-related...the two of you care very much about the clinic you run. Something happened there, or perhaps earlier on in your medical career – a financial accident, a mistake, a controversy-"

The more she spoke, the more the doctor's hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles turning whiter than his teeth as the words left her mouth. She knew. She knew. She knew, and it didn't matter if she was bluffing or not, she had him cornered.

He turned towards the exit, trying to avoid revealing that truth to Mabel but soon a coolness radiated off of the man toward her, gently nudging him back into place. It happened before he could even register his desire to leave; consequently, he processed the sudden movement as being evident of his true desire to stay. After taking a deep breath, he finally answered her.

"Yes, that's right. There was an incident with a patient. I won't say much more than that," he said with a smirk. "I'm sure you know what it was."

Mabel leaned back, closed her eyes, and waved her hands around as she spoke. Periodically, she would freeze with her palm in front of her, as if she were telling him to stop.

"Something awful...yes, it's coming into view. I see someone very sick, it seems like they're near death." Doctors dealt with all types of patients. Even a general practitioner would have treated someone with a grave illness at some point. Before she could finish, the doctor flipped over the third and final card. Promptly, she delivered an analysis.

"Things are rough for you right now. That memory from your past is haunting you in the present and even when you go through your daily routine, it lingers. The card you flipped over is the Nine of Swords. It is a card of anxiety," she said, tapping it. "You're afraid because of that ghost from your past. Your future could very well be bleak because of it. This is one possibility I can see from where I sit."

He stared at the girl sitting across from him. She had a stern, but understanding expression on her face, completely devoid of the bubbly cheerfulness he had always associated her with. Deep down, he was afraid that she knew his secret. Even so, that look on her face told him he was safe, at least for that moment.

"Doctor Greg Valentino," Dipper began, his fingers pattering away on the keyboard in front of him. "Married to Janice Valentino. They have one son, Robbie, and they run a successful general practice clinic. We've been there several times for various reasons."

Mabel nodded, conferring his summary. "Robbie used to help out at the front desk a lot, but he hasn't been doing that as much recently. Janice can be seen around the office getting the exam rooms ready for her husband. Whoa, that last line makes it sound like we're writing a script!"

Dipper rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing.

"To a mystery something-or-other, no doubt."

"All righty! Soooo...we know that he's got some sort of secret that he's hiding."

"Which you could have just strung out of him, but-"

"But I didn't want him to get angry and leave! You know how people feel about exposing secrets to us."

"Yeah, I do. The more gullible ones pour their hearts out and we pretty much turn into therapists for them. That accounts for most of the town, but even then the more skeptical people eventually spill everything without us trying too much. So what stopped you from doing that?"

Mabel bit her lip and looked away from him. What had stopped her, really? Had it really been her desire to respect her client's wishes? Perhaps not – she'd always been nosy, after all – but she had done so all the same. Then yes, it had been that. But another part of her doubted that was the whole answer. She could sense that her brother felt the same way, too.

The floor creaked under her as she opened the door. Her voice, barely above a whisper, could be heard over the creaks.

"I don't know."